


jack of all clubs

by d__T



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Communication, Domination, M/M, Spanking, Submission, and related impact play, aro xaldin, blink and you'll miss it background xigbar/xaldin, existential D/s, probably some other stuff, scene still ends on a weird note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: Luxord starts a game with Xaldin and gets a little in over his head.





	jack of all clubs

**Author's Note:**

> Had a thought about aromantic Xaldin that got just really far out of control.

“You don’t seem to miss it.” Luxord says. “So why do you want your heart back? What drives you to… service?”

The last word slides out of Luxord’s mouth like it left a bad taste. He lets Luxord sit there until he squirms before replying.

“Vindication.”

Luxord startles, the snap of a card against a gloved finger. “ _Vindication_?”

“We’re Heartless. Unable to feel emotion, mm, pitied and reviled and named monsters because we can not feel love, or the joy that comes from it.” Xaldin lays the groundwork out for Luxord, shaping the common knowledge for him as the man nods along. “This is the way I’m supposed to be. The way I’ve always been, even before my heart was taken.”

Xaldin leans forward and Luxord leans slightly back. “Here, I am rewarded for it instead of reviled. Here I am _right_.” 

“And I want to take the knowledge that I am not broken and never have been back into the mortal world with me and live in certainty of myself.”

Luxord narrows his eyes contemplatively. “That’s vindication, for sure.”

There is a long pause. Xaldin writes- nothing in particular, and a few doodles- and Luxord watches him as he practices manual card tricks. 

Luxord eventually breaks the quiet, “Darlin, you’re a sadist.”

Luxord asked the question like how he entertains himself has any bearing on how he conducted love in his past, or any relationship in the present. “It’s a choice, just like being kind is.”

“Is it not a part of your nature?”

"It is in my nature to make that choice as the situation calls for it." 

They sit in silence for a while. Luxord and his cards, Xaldin and his silent pen. Luxord must be angling for something, some curiosity or scheme that he's building the foundation for. Luxord is not the only manipulator in the mansion; Xaldin will tug right back on those strings. 

He folds his notebook shut, closing the pretense he was using. “I’m going to practice.”

“Allow me to come with you.” Luxord smiles, like it would be his treat.

“As if I could stop you.”

“Language.” Luxord comments neutrally.

“Jealous?”

“How could I be?” Luxord says blandly.

Xaldin laughs as he pushes the door open.

The locker rooms are amusing to him. None of them here own anything of value to the others- their coats are custom and items such as Xaldin's note book are  untouchable  under threat of violence. Xaldin hangs his coat up, leaving him in a black T-shirt and black jeans and the tall black boots. He'd almost prefer to do this barefoot, he wants the poetic grace that he can achieve but he recalls training in the sun in his wool guard uniform just to make sure the heat wouldn't get to him when it was for real, and leaves his boots on. 

Luxord is already out on the floor, still wearing his coat. He's throwing out a maze of cards tall enough that Xaldin can't see over them. 

He throws up a lance, and then two more at an easy ladder like spacing and simply steps up above the obstacles. He yanks the first lances up to be the final upward steps, high enough that Luxord couldn't reasonably jump and grab him. "Care to join me?”

Luxord flicks a card at him, energy crackling around its edges.

Xaldin swan dives backwards off of his perch, unnecessarily flashy. He does a half rotation to land on his hands and falls to his feet. He shakes his dreads back over his shoulders with a grin. He may be a hurricane, strong enough to move the earth with a breath, but the precise and delicate actions delight him just as much.

“Your town knew you as kind, and I know you as a sadist.” Luxord calls after him.

It’s the same challenge as before: justify your assertion. He flicks Luxord up; he could crush him against the ceiling but he does not. This is practice, and they are just messing with each other.

“Kindness is a choice.” Xaldin lets him down in fits and starts as Luxord messes with the likelihood of Xaldin slamming him to the ground. “As is cruelty. Xemnas would not be so tolerant of my kindness now, would he?”

The moment Luxord’s boots are back on the ground he flicks a flechette barrage at him. It stings, slashing his arms to beads of blood with the ones that get through his shield. “So you’ll choose to be kind when you get your heart? I’ve seen you enjoy-”

Xaldin whips him off of his feet. “If someone agrees to it, I’ll torture them for fun.” And puts Luxord down again when Luxord tries to surf away on the current. He repeats his question from earlier, connecting dots for Luxord, leading him. “Are you jealous?”

Luxord laughs. “I’m for a life of tramps, ale, and sucking Lady Luck’s cunt until she screams my benediction. No place for torture there.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Xaldin asks plainly. Luxord always has a gambit and Xaldin is not opposed, he simply doesn’t care for this diagonal questioning.

“Well.” Luxord considers. “I was gonna fill your empty heart with sex and make you admit to love, but-” He drags his gaze down Xaldin’s body. “if it’s all the same to you, I’ll still have the sex.”

That’s what Xaldin thought; two can play at manipulations. He pulls a lance out of the air and drapes his arms back over it. He knows he’s physically impressive- Luxord, as well built as he is is comparatively small. And his posturing earned him the information he wanted; Luxord’s little inhale, body instinct to smell and pick up pheromones.

“Knowing what you know about me, and you still wanna bite?” Xaldin drops the butt of the lance to the floor with a thud that makes Luxord flinch. He slides his hand up the shaft and threads his fingers through the eye and mouth of the dragon head cut into the blade.

“That’s the appeal.” Luxord smirks.

Xaldin steps towards him, leaving plenty of room for Luxord to escape if he wants to, gait offset by the lance. “Tell me, handsome little thing, exactly what you want me to do to you. Because no matter your benediction, you don’t want to leave that to my imagination.”

Luxord looks up at him, all wide blue eyes, and swallows nervously before making his list of demands.

Luxord struggles when Xaldin slings him over his shoulder. He lands a couple of good hits, but unfortunately for him, he is a gambler and not a hurricane. He stops struggling when Xaldin threatens him, “I will take one of your demands and ignore it if you continue to fight.”

Then Luxord goes still, taut and still, like he doesn’t know the layout of the mansion perfectly already. It gives him time to think about what Luxord had asked him for and to plan for how he’ll deliver it.

Luxord wants his size, his violence, not necessarily his cruelty. He’d fetishized him for his stature and Xaldin can’t quite blame him for it; he likes to use his body in this way, too. That’s an easy limit to respect.

He throws Luxord down on his own bed, his own territory to keep Luxord off kilter and uncomfortable. Luxord pops up on his elbows, curious, alert, and looking around Xaldin’s room like he’s cataloging personal effects.

“Enough.” Xaldin growls, slamming him back down. He materializes a lance horizontally under his palm before it hits Luxord’s chest. The bar of it catches under Luxord’s pecs, his physique working against him, and Xaldin pushes up and in, brutally stretching the muscle and grinding the bulky coat zipper into his sternum.

Luxord hisses with pain, kicking out and twisting, trying to throw Xaldin aside.

Xaldin avoids the kick and then simply kneels across Luxord’s thighs, his weight adequate to keep him pinned. “Nuh-uh.”

He feels something crackle in his dreadlocks, probabilities shifting as Luxord reacts. It might be unintentional on Luxord’s part, Xaldin can’t quite tell. He’ll have to be careful now. Keep it simple so that an errant chance doesn’t become reality.

“I’ll need this.” Xaldin says, one hand on Luxord’s shoulder and the other tugging oh- so delicately at the coat’s zipper pull.

Luxord clutches at him; the coats are both armor and clothing.

Xaldin yanks the zipper down, wrist slipping through Luxord’s hands. Luxord gasps, delightful and scandalized, and Xaldin wants to put his fingers between his lips and grip his jaw, but it’s not that time yet. It’s not in the plan.

Xaldin peels Luxord out of his coat like an insect out of its carapace. Luxord struggles in a way that’s helpful but also indicates that he thinks that Xaldin hasn’t caught on to his antics.

When Luxord is free of his coat, Xaldin simply grabs him by the front of his plain black shirt and yanks. Luxord comes upright with a yelp and the creak of stressed fabric. “-my shirt!”

Xaldin leans into his face, nose to nose. “It’s in my way.” He twists his fist, stressing the thin knit even further even as Luxord clutches at him.

Luxord catches on in a moment and pulls his shirt off a normal way, back over his head. Xaldin doesn’t let go of it, instead pulling it back to Luxord’s elbows and leaving it there. He pushes Luxord back until he’s laying over his twisted arms, chest canted and twisted, belly exposed.

There’s blush crawling down over his chest. It’s coming through splotchy. Xaldin grins, “You look delicious like this.”

Luxord smirks, “Then eat me.”

Xaldin slaps him in the middle of his chest and Luxord bucks. His handprint blooms instantly and he speaks like Luxord hadn’t said anything at all. “And now you look even better.”

“Oh.” Luxord breathes.

Xaldin hits him twice, once on each side so that his handprints make it look like he’s grabbing Luxord’s tits. It’s a good look on him, so he rubs around the edges of the impacts until Luxord squirms and whines and he can feel Luxord’s cock growing hard under his leg. It’s time for him to move along.

He slides a hand under his leg and grips Luxord’s cock through his jeans and tugs harshly. Luxord grunts. “Hey!”

“Aw, too quickly?” He yanks again. “Pity you’re so responsive.”

Luxord thrashes again, trying to dislodge him. 

Xaldin slaps Luxord’s belly in warning before sliding his fingers down under his belt. “I don’t think you need these anymore. I want to see your every flinch.”

Xaldin undoes Luxord’s jeans and yanks them down to his knees to hobble him, like his arms are still hobbled. Luxord tries to work them down further and Xaldin simply flips him onto his face and smacks his ass hard enough to leave a handprint.

Luxord jerks, and then jerks again as his reaction hits him.

Xaldin picks his legs up and situates himself under them, arranging Luxord’s hips to be across his lap with his cock pressing down against his legs. He can feel the bar of heat, the points of Luxord’s hipbones, the man’s rapid breaths. Each one a delicate, cultivatable, ruinable thing.

Xaldin slaps him again.

Luxord is shivering, pale skin heated and reddened from the slapping Xaldin has given him. He’s pretty like this, wounded and spattered with his own cum, shocked and brain-empty. Xaldin tells him so although Luxord probably can't hear him right now.

He casually feels his own cock, trapped in his jeans, hot and thick. It's mostly uninteresting to him except for what he could do with it; he could stuff it into Luxord’s mouth, make him choke and crack his jaw but Luxord hasn’t earned that yet. Hasn’t asked for it, either. The situation isn't right.

And then Luxord spasms and starts crying. Xaldin sits there and watches him snuffle himself into silence, a tense ball on his side. Then, carefully, lays down beside him and wraps him up with his body.

Luxord slowly relaxes against him and then whispers roughly, “You bastard. You mad bastard. It’s all a choice to you but it doesn’t matter.”

“I choose to care; you decide what meaning you ascribe to that.”

"What's this to you?" Luxord demands, peeved.

"It's fun."

"It's fun." Luxord mimics, pushing out of his arms. "Is anything real to you?" 

Xaldin lets him go. Luxord has gotten more than he’d bargained for, a misestimation of himself. “Is what we just did any less real for us being Heartless? I did it, you felt it and you are still feeling it.”

Luxord is staring back at him, back against the headboard and legs folded up against his body, unconsciously trying to protect himself.

“That seems enough to be real.” Xaldin continues, reaching out to cup Luxord’s cheek. Thumb on golden stubble, delicate corner of his lips. Luxord nods under his touch.

“We learn who we are and wear it into the paths of our neurons, not our hearts. Mutable, of course, by each choice over time but not by death.”

He taps Luxord’s temple. “We live here.” Then he taps Luxord’s chest over his heart. “Not here.”

Luxord removes Xaldin’s hand from his body. “That’s enough.”

Xaldin quells a tonally inappropriate snicker. “Yes, yes it is.”

Luxord stands and finishes righting his clothing. “I’m not sure that merits a thank you.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Close the door on your way out.”


End file.
